


Something Wretched

by Prince_Hamlet



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Family, Heist, Heist gone wrong, I Have Your Loved One, Kidnapping, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 11:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19333459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_Hamlet/pseuds/Prince_Hamlet
Summary: Peter is pissed when Juno pulls a Juno Steel Original by ducking out of a heist early, no doubt to execute his own idiotic plan.Until he gets a call from the man who took him, demanding 2 million creds, or Juno's life.Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: I Have Your Loved One





	Something Wretched

Peter discreetly tapped his earpiece. It stubbornly continued to static in his ear. He changed the channel once, twice. Buddy and Rita came through loud and clear. Must just be a problem with Juno’s. Peter rolled his shoulders, leaning back from the card table like he was stretching and trying to catch a glimpse of Juno. He had just been over by the slots, but now Peter couldn’t see him.

Wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone off script mid-heist and tried to execute his own plan. He probably turned off his earpiece. Juno was infuriating. Friendly one moment, irritable the next. He'd been trying to keep his distance ever since he’d joined their little gang. Peter had set his own rules though. Keep it professional. Not too familiar but not letting his feelings impact the mission. And don’t touch Juno. And he’d kept constant even as Juno roiled like an indecisive storm. 

Peter directed his annoyance back to his current hand of cards and tried to focus on the mark, tense and ready to counter whatever bullshit Juno was trying to pull.

And when the mark got away without any kind of interference from a certain PI-turned-insufferable-crime-committing-jackass, Peter returned to the ship with a scowl plastered on his face.

“Mael, where’s Juno?” Buddy asked the moment he stepped on board.

“Figured out a ‘better way’ I suppose. It’s just like him to wander off without telling anyone to do something ‘heroic.’” he snapped. “I can’t believe I ever found it endearing.” He sat heavily in one of the seats as Buddy and Jet exchanged a look.

“That… doesn’t sound like Mista Steel.” Rita said.

“Oh? He’s never gone off without telling you to do his own ill-advised plan?”

“Well yeah maybe before but—”

Peter’s comms buzzed. Caller ID said Juno. Peter scoffed. “And this is him now, probably needing to be bailed out.” He picked up the comms. “I hope you have a good explanation for this because if you don’t I swear I’ll—”

“Mael,” Juno croaked. His voice sounded broken. Peter’s hand tightened around the comms. 

“Where are you? Is there someone there with you?”

“I can’t…” he took a rattling breath. Over the comms came the sound of a low, cold laugh. 

“I think what he means to say is that he can’t answer those questions right now. But I have a few for you, Mael Shale, such as: did you really think I would be so stupid? Did you think that there wouldn’t be consequences? And how much money do you have on you? It’s going to take a lot for me to part from this little treasure.”

The mark. Peter tried to even his breathing, tried to slip into a lie as easily as always. But he could still hear Juno's ragged breaths and he was down in the tomb all over again, Juno one room away and suffering. One foot away and bleeding. Powerless.

But he wasn’t powerless now. “Weren’t you listening?,” he scoffed, “We don’t need him. Keep him if you’d like.” Peter gestured to Rita, trying to get across that she should trace the call. She was already typing furiously on her comms. 

“Hm. Well if he’s useless to you I suppose he’s useless to me and there’s no point in keeping him alive.”

“No!” It slipped out without his permission. Again that slow, cruel laugh crackled over the comms, slithering up Peter’s spine like a Martian tentacle.

“Then I expect to see a transfer of 2 million creds in my account within the hour. Once it’s secure, I’ll send you the address where you can come pick him up.” 

“How can I be sure you won’t just kill him?”

“You can’t. But I’m not giving you a choice. Oh, and come alone when you get him, or he’ll be killed on sight.”

The call ended with a beep. Peter kept the comms to his ear as if it would bring Juno back. 

“Mista Shale, I got a location for ya.” The ship was silent. Buddy was in charge, but everyone looked to Peter for direction. Like they all silently knew that this, that Juno was Peter's call. “... We’re not going to pay him, right?”

“No. No of course not, Rita,” Peter sighed. “We’re—” His comms buzzed again. Just a message this time.

<>

<>

Attached to the second message was a video. He knew what it was going to be. He clicked it anyway. 

Juno, tied to a chair with a bag over his head. The bag was pulled off. He was already half beaten and disoriented. The bag was redundant, as his one eye was practically swelled shut. 

“Tell me who you’re working for, and you won’t get hurt,” said the mark, offscreen. "Any worse, that is."

Juno turned his head toward the voice, cracking that stupid smirk of his. “Oh so those were your goons? Tell ‘em thanks from me, I don’t think I would be able to get through this interrogation if I had to look at your ugly fuckin’ face.”

One of the goons stepped into frame to punch Juno in the stomach, over and over until blood dripped from his lips. He spat onto the ground as best he could.

“Tell me who you’re working for.”

“Oh yeah, and your clothes too, god it’s like the sun had a midlife crisis and got into high fashion for wannabe gangsters. How well do you have to pay these goons not to tell you to get a new look?” A new goon stepped into frame, flicking on a stun knife. Juno flinched, then laughed until he had to pause to cough up more blood. “Is this what they teach you in ‘scary interrogation 101’? Everyone uses the same damn tricks. Come up with something original for once in a w—”

A stun knife to the ribs cut him off. Peter forced himself to close the video. He took a couple steadying breaths as the rest of the crew watched him, waiting for an answer.

“No, Rita, we’re not going to pay him. We’re going to make him pay.” 

 

They arrived at the abandoned factory in 10 minutes. Nureyev didn’t wait for a plan, just swung out as soon as they were close-ish to the ground and started looking for a back way in. If Buddy tried to stop him he didn’t hear it.

They had his Juno.

He scaled the building by way of an access ladder and ended up perched on a rafter, above even the catwalks the overlooked the factory floor. It was crawling with goons. Most of them appeared to have pistols but they likely all had a secondary weapon, a blade or a stun knife.

It was second nature. A dance you know so well you didn’t even realize you were moving through the steps. Drop onto a thug on the catwalk and crush their windpipe so they can’t call for help. Relieve them of their stun knife and take the blaster card from their gun. Sneak up on catwalk goon #2 and wait to turn on the stun knife until their arm is twisted up behind their back and the sparking blade is inches from their throat. Demand to know where the prisoner is. Remind them how a stun knife feels when they don’t answer fast enough. When they point to the door, throw them over the railing into the first guard in your way. That’s when hell breaks loose. In the chaos, Nureyev thrives. He rides a winch down to the ground floor and carves a path through anyone in his way. Redirect gunfire, relocate knives from sheaths to rib cages, use their own confusion to make them hurt. Like they hurt Juno.

When the hallway in front of the door is still, Nureyev clicks it open, and lets it swing in, waiting against the wall next to it. One plasma blast shoots through immediately and burns the wall across from him. Then silence.

Then, “Well, what are you waiting for? Get out there!” The mark.

The muzzle of a gun pokes out first, and Nureyev doesn’t wait for more than half a forearm to follow before grabbing the goon’s arm and swinging him into the adjacent wall. The second plasma charge hits the ceiling and Nureyev’s through the door before the body hits the ground. Juno’s tied to a chair in the center of the room and the mark’s to the right, flanked by two guards. 

“Kill him!” But the mark’s not pointing at Nureyev, he’s pointing at Juno. The guard that moves to answer lifts his gun then finds it hard to pull the trigger when a knife is thrown into his wrist. He screams and drops his gun but Nureyev wasn’t watching the other guard and gets clocked. He stumbles into the left wall and through the ringing in his ears he hears two sets of footsteps leaving. He turns to stop them but the unharmed guard backhands him.

And that was a mistake.

Because now he’s really angry.

Next thing he knew, the guard was on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Peter stood up from where he was kneeling and smoothed back his hair. He reassessed the room. 

Juno was twisted as far from the fight as he could manage with his hands and feet bound. Fresh blood droplets were splattered over his nose with the dried blood that covered half his face. His breathing was ragged.

“Juno? It’s me.” Peter gently stepped forward, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his face. Juno flinched anyway at the footsteps. 

“You sure like swooping in at the last second, don’t you Nureyev?” he rasped. There was an edge to his voice, a little tremor. 

Juno could still joke, which meant he was still fine. He had to be. But that didn’t mean it didn’t make his blood boil to think of the man that did this. Peter cut Juno’s bonds. Juno reached blindly for his arm. 

Peter redirected him back to the chair.

“Wait here, Juno, one of the others will come get you soon.” He turned to leave, but Juno grabbed his arm.

“Where are you going?” he wheezed. 

“I’m going to find the bastard that did this to you, and rip him into little pieces.”

“No.”

“No? Juno he hurt you. I can’t let him—”

“Stop, please. Stop. I don’t want this. No more violence, Nureyev.” He was staring straight ahead, breathing through bloodied lungs. “I just want to go—” he stopped himself. “I just want to go. Please.”

Peter blinked at him. His blind rage died like he’d been put on ice. “Of course, Juno.”

He stepped in close to help Juno stand. Juno’s arm around his shoulders. His arm around Juno’s waist. They walked slowly out of the room, stepping careful around the body. Peter had his knife in his free hand in case they were accosted, but it seemed the other goons had been taken care of. Jet caught up with them in the hall and wordlessly scooped up Juno and headed back to the ship. It was more efficient, obviously, for Juno to be carried. It just made sense. And Jet was probably the only one that could carry him. But Peter’s side felt cold. He didn’t try to keep up with Jet. Just made his slow way back. He passed an open door on his way back. Not noticeable except that outside it was the desert. And in the sand were clear marks of a car leaving in a hurry. Sloppy. Easy to follow. 

He went back to the ship. 

Vespa was patching Juno up. Rita was seated next to him, talking his ear off. She was holding his hand. It made Peter’s palms itch.

He went to the bathroom instead to get cleaned up. His shirt was torn. Red splatters on his face were quickly turning brown. A dark streak in his hair matted it together. He looked… terrifying. The kind of man you don’t want to be near. That had never really bothered him before. 

He had to take a shower to get it all off. Had to throw away the clothes too. 

When he reentered the common area he was clean. Rita was on the couch asleep on Vespa, who looked confused and uncomfortable but not unhappy. Juno was on the other end of the couch slowly picking at some reheated noodles. His face was clean and there were bandages covering the worst of his wounds. He was facing the monitor showing whatever Rita had undoubtedly put on, but he certainly couldn’t see much of it. Buddy and Jet were nowhere to be seen, which meant they were likely discussing their next moves. Peter sat in the armchair next to Juno’s end of the couch. Juno only jumped a little. 

“Feeling better?”

Juno almost chuckled, and then winced. “Kinda.” 

That sat in silence. Juno pushing his noodles around the plate, Peter trying to figure out the plot of the steam and trying not to stare at Juno. Trying not to fuss over him. Trying to keep it professional. Trying not to touch him.

A hand landed on his arm and made him almost jump. Juno was looking at him— well, facing him. His hand was on Peter’s arm, warm and heavy and shaking ever so slightly.

“Thanks. For… everything.”

Peter stared at him. Beautiful, insufferable, confusing, endearing Juno.

“Of course.”

Juno nodded. He didn’t move his hand. Peter didn’t move his hand. He let it lay there on his arm, and ground him.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hozier's From Eden
> 
> "Babe, there's something wretched about this/ something so precious about this/ where to begin?"
> 
> As always, leave a comment or reach out to me at prince-hamlet.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm gonna try to do more of these if you want to leave prompts


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